AUTUMN WIND By MARIAN ALLEN

The Autumn Wind I hear it say,

“Over the hills and far away—

The folded hills that are hedged and green

Where warm little villages huddle between—

Where peeps the spire of a half-hid town—

Over the hills that are furrowed and brown

To the distant hills that are blue and thin

Where the land must end and the sea begin—

Light as a leaf from the wind-blown tree—

Over the hills to the dancing sea—

Chasing your shadow across the sun—

Up little Playfellow! Up and run!”

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